by Kim McMahill
The footage was grainy and a little out of focus, but the body language of both men left no doubt in Devyn’s mind the young scientist was leaving the building against his will. The FBI ran the man’s face through every database at their disposal and came up with nothing, but they did get a look at the vehicle the men drove off in. At the moment, a team was meticulously raking over Jonah’s apartment and the parking lot, but she felt certain they would find nothing to divulge the kidnapper’s identity.
“Anything new?” Devyn asked as she approached Nick who was sitting behind his desk in the process of hanging up his phone.
“The Nevada Highway Patrol has a lead on Dr. Clark, and some closer FBI assets are on the way to pick him up and bring him in.”
“I guess there’s no point in delaying any longer then,” Devyn stated as she grabbed the duffle off the floor near her desk.
As promised, Nick had the vehicle ready to go, and true to form, he looked like he just stepped off the cover of an outdoor clothing magazine. Devyn glanced down at the silver duct tape stuck over a hole in the elbow of her favorite navy blue puffy coat, holding in all the tiny down feathers. No one would accuse her of being a glamor queen, but at least her gear was warm and functional. She’d bet it was toastier than Nick’s new, fashionable wool jacket.
“Seriously, Devyn?”
“What?” she asked as she followed his eyes to her mud covered boots.
“I just vacuumed out the vehicle from our last road trip. There were potato chip crumbs in places I still can’t imagine how they got there, and I don’t know how you got coffee on the ceiling.”
Nick was borderline obsessive compulsive. Devyn knew she should try harder to humor him and keep things tidy, but when she was focused on a case, her mind held little room for anything else, especially mundane housekeeping.
Nick’s idiosyncrasies did have benefits. The reports he always insisted upon filling out for them and filing were well-organized and detailed, and he made sure their data was easily accessible. He never misplaced anything.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid my boots are the least of the trials your SUV is going to face during this trip.”
Nick pulled out of the parking lot, shaking his head. “I swear, next time an opening comes up in Florida or California, I’m out of here.”
“But you would miss me so much.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I hardly know you.”
“You know more about me than I do about you. Your stupid condition about me not running a background on you or you’ll tell Conroy you want a transfer is unreasonable. I’ll bet you ran one on me.”
“You would lose. The FBI has vetted us both thoroughly, so the only reason to run a background check on each other is to be nosy. I believe one’s private life should remain private.”
Devyn pondered Nick’s ultimatum. She had been tempted, on more than one occasion, to try to find out what in his past he didn’t want her to know, but the humiliation of losing another partner made her keep her word to him and not pry. It infuriated her to believe, without a doubt, he really hadn’t checked her background either.
“Okay, I’ll start. I grew up an Army brat. We’d lived in three countries and four states by the time I graduated from high school.”
“That explains why you don’t play well with others.”
She ignored his comment and continued. “I joined the ROTC during college and did four years in the Army after graduating. Then I got a job with the FBI, and here I am. Your turn.”
“I went to college, too. Then I got a job with the FBI, and here I am.”
“Seriously, that’s all you’re giving me?”
“My life is on a need to know basis, and frankly, Devyn, that’s all you need to know.
Devyn fumed but let it drop. She leaned her head back and shut her eyes. She hoped Nick wasn’t serious about transferring somewhere else. Not only did she enjoy working with him, they made a good team, and prying into his personal life had become a game she was determined to eventually win. She was nothing if not persistent, but she would play it Nick’s way to keep him around.
Conroy had warned her that if she ran Nick off like the rest, she might be reassigned to a solo desk job. In his words, “We’ve run out of volunteers, and no one has screwed up here badly enough to merit you as punishment.”
Was she that hard to be around?
Self-reflection was probably well past due, but it would have to wait a bit longer. For now, she had to focus on making sure the elusive thorn in the research industries’ side didn’t slip through her fingers once more.
“I majored in criminal psychology at Arizona State University.”
She smiled and kept her eyes closed. Yes, she was wearing him down, and if she were patient, she would learn all of Nick Melonis’s secrets, little by little.
Chapter Thirty
According to Frank’s estimation, they were only about ten miles from the ranch when Vince’s voice came over the radio. He rolled his eyes and pressed the button. “What?” he snarled, sure whatever the guy had to say could wait and shouldn’t be discussed over the airwaves.
“There’s a snowplow gaining on us. Should we pull over and wait for it to pass so we can follow behind on clearer roads?”
“No, in fact speed up so you can put some distance between you and the plow,” Frank ordered.
“Uh, copy.”
Frank enjoyed a moment of silence as he contemplated the snowplow. He didn’t like the idea of potential witnesses, especially those with long-range, high-tech radio communication to a monitored dispatch center.
“Are you serious, boss?” Victor asked as he glanced over at Frank with confusion. “I’ve been driving for over an hour, and the conditions are getting worse, so letting the plow get ahead of us sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
Frank sighed in exasperation. “You idiots. The last thing we need is to be sitting alongside the road so the driver can get a good look at us and our vehicles. In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a lot of cars out in this storm, so any traffic will stick in the plow operator’s memory. In fact, he may even stop to see if we need help.”
“Sorry, boss, didn’t think of that.”
“Just keep the speed up, don’t wreck us, and get as close as possible to the ranch before dark.”
Victor nodded, his knuckles white as he clutched the steering wheel. Glancing at Frank, he knew the topic wasn’t up for discussion, so offered nothing further.
Frank’s mind wandered to the many islands he’d visited in the past. All of them sounded pretty darned good right now. He carefully dissected the attributes of each, trying to decide if any were suitable for an extended vacation where he wouldn’t be discovered by the long reach of his mysterious but deadly employer.
He would need an obscure island where people minded their own business, someplace with enough foreigners that he could blend in and have access to modern comforts. He closed his eyes, envisioning the white sand beaches, beautiful, barely clad women, and swaying palm trees. The scene helped push the thoughts of killing his inept hired help out of his mind, but he was jolted abruptly out of his daydream when the SUV jerked and rapidly slowed. He glanced up to see a small, bright red, all-wheel-drive car driving toward them at a speed too fast for conditions and taking up more than its share of the highway.
“Run it off the road,” Frank demanded.
Victor glanced only briefly at his boss but said nothing as he maneuvered their much larger vehicle to the center of the highway. Pressing down on the accelerator, the white rig barreled toward the unsuspecting car. With no time to react, the red vehicle swerved, spun around in a three sixty, and vaulted over the embankment.
Following the vehicle’s trajectory, Frank noted with satisfaction the glow of the taillights clearly marked the spot where the vehicle came to rest. The plow driver couldn’t possibly miss the wreck, and he would no doubt stop to help, keeping that potential witness well behind them and occup
ied. The vehicle would be difficult to reach and extrication would require more manpower than the lone plow driver, hopefully requiring the response of the nearest deputy. Frank smiled, picked up the radio, and depressed the small button.
“Don’t stop for anything, and keep pushing the speed until you catch us.”
“Copy.”
Frank looked at his GPS and realized the location and timing of the recent encounter couldn’t have been better.
Chapter Thirty-One
Logan groaned as he fished the vibrating cell phone out of his back pocket, indicating a text message had made it through. He reluctantly hoisted himself off of Grace and read the words on the tiny screen.
“Sheriff Harris?” Grace asked hopefully as she sat up on the sofa.
“Nope. Dispatch. Don’t move, and don’t forget where we were. I’ll be right back,” he stated as he left her side to call in.
Grace was thankful she couldn’t understand the muffled curses coming from the kitchen. By the sound of Logan’s voice, she knew the romantic moment was over. Disappointment filled her mind. Walking over to the fire, she threw another log on the dying flames and then followed the mumbling into the kitchen to find Logan pulling on his boots.
“A plow driver called in an accident. He can’t get to the vehicle so he doesn’t know if there are any injuries or, if there are, how serious. An ambulance is on the way, but it could take hours on these roads. It sounds like the wreck is located only about fifteen minutes from here.”
The thought of Logan leaving terrified her.
What choice did he have? The victims could be hanging onto life by a thread, and so far there had been no direct attempts on her life. Besides, surely even the most desperate criminal wouldn’t venture out in this nasty and dangerous weather.
“I hope it isn’t serious,” she said while filling a travel mug with coffee, noticing the cold dinner they hadn’t gotten a chance to eat on the table.
Grace followed him to the entryway, doing her best to look calm as he donned his layers of cold weather gear. The anger and worry etched on the rugged planes of his face made her want to hold him and sooth away the anxiety. She touched a hand gently to his cheek, and when he glanced up, his features softened.
“I don’t like leaving you here alone.”
He looked so torn Grace felt the need to ease his apprehension. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just stay inside out of the storm with the doors locked and keep the fire stoked. If any uninvited guests show up they’ll have to wait in the cold at the end of my shotgun until you return. So far, we haven’t seen anyone or heard anything to confirm I’m even in danger. Just go help those travelers and put me out of your mind.”
“Even if I wasn’t worried about your safety, I still wouldn’t be able to put you out of my mind, and I definitely want a rain check and a hot meal when I get back,” he replied as he leaned over and placed a light kiss on her lips.
She fought the urge to beg him to stay as she handed him the travel mug of hot coffee. Instead, she stood in the open doorway and offered a comforting smile. “Be careful. If you get stuck you won’t be any help to them or me.”
He nodded and disappeared into the swirling white.
Grace stood with the door open until the taillights of his pickup disappeared over the rise. After closing the door, she bolted it shut. Her eyes landed on the shotgun propped in the corner. She checked the load even though she knew it was ready.
Logan was relieved to find that the tracks he and Grace had broken through the drifts earlier hadn’t refilled much in the past few hours. Conditions were bad, but not impassable. With cautious driving, he should have no trouble reaching the scene of the accident.
Several inches of new snow rested on a packed base of older snow, making the main highway slick, but at least there wasn’t any ice to deal with. He ran through his gear in his mind and hoped he had everything he needed so he and the plow driver could reach the victims, tend to any injuries, and secure the scene by the time the ambulance arrived.
If all went smoothly, he shouldn’t be away from Grace for more than a couple of hours. He wasn’t sure if his desire to get back to Grace had anything to do with potential danger that had yet to materialize, and hopefully never would, or the need to finish what they started before the text rattled his cell phone.
Slowing slightly and hugging the edge of the road, Logan lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave to the driver of an approaching vehicle.
“I’ll never understand those die-hard snowmobilers,” he muttered as he met an SUV followed closely by a truck and trailer loaded with machines. “Nothing could be fun enough to get me out in this storm willingly.”
When most sane people hunkered down to weather the elements, there were always a few adrenaline junkies who headed out to test the fresh powder and their expensive high-powered machines. Normally Logan didn’t care what people did for entertainment, but every now and then their activities translated into him having to spend a long night out in a blizzard rescuing their careless bodies off some unforgiving mountain.
After another ten minutes of slow driving, Logan rounded a corner and saw the light flashing on top of the plow. He pulled over as far as he dared and added his lights to the mix to ensure any approaching traffic would have plenty of warning to slow down and move out of the way. Getting out of his vehicle, he assessed the scene and located the plow driver.
“What have we got?” he asked.
“I can’t reach the vehicle. All this snow should have cushioned the impact, and I doubt they were going very fast when they went over the edge, so hopefully any injuries are minor. I imagine they’re more cold and scared than anything.”
Logan nodded and returned to his truck to retrieve a long coil of rope and some basic rappelling gear.
“Secure this end to something solid on the plow while I rope up.”
By the time the plow operator tied off the rope, Logan had his equipment on and began the steep descent to the half-buried car. As he inched his way down the slope, he could feel his phone vibrating against his side.
“If it’s another slide off, I’m closing the road for the night,” he hissed through clenched teeth, unable to do anything about the incoming text.
Logan continued the cautious descent to the disabled vehicle. The deep powder made each step slow and tedious. Despite the relatively short distance from the road to the car, he was winded by the time he reached the vehicle.
With a gloved hand, Logan wiped the snow from the driver’s side window and was relieved to see two alert occupants staring back at him. The driver gave him a thumbs-up, indicating they were okay, and through gestures communicated he couldn’t open the door or roll down the window.
Snow reached to halfway up the door on the driver’s side and further up on the passenger side of the car, but at least the vehicle looked stable. The front bumper was pressed up against two very large pines, and the car was too buried in snow to dislodge and move any further down the steep mountain slope.
Reaching for the camp shovel he had secured to his pack before beginning the descent, Logan started digging. Once disturbed by the car’s impact, the snow had quickly refrozen, making its removal slow and strenuous, but thoughts of Grace home alone made Logan dig with fury. The quicker he could get these two out, verify there were no injuries, take a report, and see them safely in an ambulance heading to town, the sooner he could get back to the ranch where he belonged. The thought of “belonging” disrupted his motion momentarily, but he pushed the thought out of his head and dug.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Grace covered the two plates of untouched food with plastic wrap and shuffled absent-mindedly toward the refrigerator. Her thoughts scattered in multiple directions. When Logan got home, she would reheat the meal, but she wasn’t sure whether or not they would pick up where they left off. Grace couldn’t deny she wanted him now, and for the long-term, but she didn’t know if she could trust him with her heart.
She had dated some in college and occasionally since going to work for UVN, but she never let the relationships go very far for fear of being rejected, unwilling to put herself in a position of feeling unwanted again.
Grace survived being abandoned by her parents, thanks to Moss. He convinced her she had done nothing to encourage her parents’ desertion, and he worked hard to provide the love, security, and parental guidance she needed. She was an adult now, responsible for her own actions, and only she could decide if taking a chance on Logan would be worth the possibility of having her heart broken.
A ringing sound interrupted her thoughts and broke the silence inside the ranch house. Stowing the leftovers in the refrigerator, she raced to the phone. Her pulse escalated a few beats. She doubted the caller was anyone other than Moss, the sheriff, or Dr. Clark, and none of those would be calling for idle chitchat. She said a brief prayer that everyone was okay and steadied her breathing before answering.
“Hi Grace, Sheriff Harris. I need to speak to Logan.”
“He’s not here. He got a text from dispatch concerning an accident not too far from the ranch. He left about twenty minutes ago.”
“Darn it! I have deputies en route, along with an ambulance. He shouldn’t have been called out. The instructions must not have gotten passed on at shift change.”
“It’s been pretty quiet here, and I’m sure the dispatcher realized Logan was a good hour and a half closer.” Grace wasn’t sure why she was defending a dispatcher who hadn’t followed orders, and whom she had never met, but trying to sound like all was well helped her to believe it might be true. “Can I give him a message when he returns?”
The line was silent for a moment, and Grace had the feeling the sheriff was debating about how much to tell her. The longer he remained mute the more her concern grew.
“Is something wrong, sheriff?”
She heard the deep intake of breath on the other end of the phone line and waited patiently for him to continue.